


Paint the Words for Me

by HeroSavesPeople



Category: The Flash, westallen
Genre: Artist Iris, Drabble, F/M, Love, Poet Barry, Romance, Smitten Barry, What else is new, Writer Barry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 15:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroSavesPeople/pseuds/HeroSavesPeople
Summary: Barry is a talented writer who had been struggling to submit another book in two years until the day he sees her.





	Paint the Words for Me

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by Michael Faudet's poetry to write the beginnings of a WA AU. Basically, a lot of his poetry makes me think of Writer Barry who is so smitten by Iris, he dedicates an entire book of poetry to her after meeting her. I don’t know if this fandom does the whole “adopt-a-fic” thing, but if there’s anyone who would like to expand on this story, I’d be more than happy to share it!

Slamming his fingers across the keyboards, Barry lets out a heavy sigh.  His head drops into his hand and he thinks to himself how he’d love nothing more than to throw his laptop across the cafe before flipping the table.  However, he’s certain that would get him arrested and looks that deduced he was certifiably insane.

(Perhaps he was.)    

So he withholds those urges and instead decides to get another hot drink to warm his chilled fingers.  Most definitely not anything caffeinated and most definitely some chamomile to calm his frayed nerves.  Standing up from his seat as though it took great effort to lift his weary body, he freezes in place when he looks across the cafe and sees her.  

His eyes are immediately drawn to her own that seems to be shining just as bright as her lovely smile.  His gaze shifts, taking note of her shiny black curls that she shifts off her shoulder with a smooth hand decorated with rings and what looked like henna.  The intricate designs in black ink stood out against her rich brown skin and he briefly wonders what her motivation for the henna was.  Was she going to a wedding or was she simply showing her appreciation for the culture and artistry?  Or perhaps she was the one getting married and paying homage to her groom-to-be?  So many possibilities…

And then he hears her laugh, the soft tinkling sound that seemed to be the embodiment of pureness and joy.  He feels his heart flip in his chest at the sound and watches her eyes crinkle in delight.  

So entranced by her brightness, Barry is oblivious to the person trying to skirt past him to get to the order counter.  

“S’cuse me, dude, trying to get by here.”

Barry jumps in place and hastily moves out of the way.  “Oh sorry!”  Having been caught staring, he feels his cheeks fill with heat as he rushes to sit back down.  He somehow trips and drops unceremoniously into his chair causing the metal to scrape against the floor.  The loud screech felt as though it echoed in the small cafe and drew several pairs of eyes upon him.  

One of them being hers.  

When his eyes meet hers, he feels his own widen in horror and he looks away.  He was certain his skin was bright red and would combust very soon with how quickly the heat spread across him.  If he was was chilly before, he was certainly not anymore.  He needed some air.  

Quickly packing up his belongings, he forgoes the chamomile tea and rushes out the door.  He could have sworn he saw her head turn toward him as he scurried past her, but he paid no mind, intent on making his escape.   Once he was outside and a safe distance away, he stops and takes a deep breath, letting the autumn air fill his lungs.  

And as though traveling in the air, the words filters into his mind.  He closes his eyes and leans against the brick wall, his cheeks slowly becoming numb with the chilly breeze.  He becomes acutely aware of his heart thumping rapidly before it slows to a steady beat and in between the beats, he hears her giggle.  

And just like that, he had something to write about.  

He makes his way back to his apartment with a determined stride, eager to let his fingers fly across his keys. 

* * *

It took two weeks of Cisco berating him to stop being a creepy stalker and just talk to her.  

“Hey, I’m not a stalker,” Barry defends.  “I don’t even know her name and it’s not like I go out of my way to eavesdrop on her conversations or what she’s doing.”  

“And yet, you’ve eavesdropped enough to know that she went to a friend’s wedding recently and is an artist,” Cisco points out, sticking a red vine in his mouth.  “Not to mention the poetry about her.  ‘The sun rises in your eyes and cast a shadow that you bury.’  Quite lovely, if I do say so.” 

“But that’s it.  I’m staying away.”  

“And admiring from afar, huh?  Yeah, that’s what stalkers do, Barry.  Stop being a weirdo and talk to her.”

Barry lets out a heavy sigh and turns to look at Cisco who was looking at him from the breakfast counter with judgemental eyes.  “You know I’m not good at this stuff.”

Cisco shrugs.  “Want me to be your wingman?”

“That would make it so much worse!”

“Well, you gotta do _something_.”

And so the next day he drinks a cup of hot chamomile and walks out of his apartment like a man on a mission.  But as usual, as soon as he catches sight of her, he freezes.  

There she was, her headphones in, typing away furiously on her laptop with a forgotten sketchbook laying open next to a half-eaten coffee cake.  

His heart patters in his chest, he could scarcely breath and the moment she pauses her typing to smile satisfactorily at her screen makes his stomach flip.   His body reacts to her in an unusual way and he has to fight to keep steady.  

_You can do this, Barry, goddamn it, you can do this.  
_

With a deep breath that he releases sharply, he walks toward her.  Just as he approaches, she looks up and catches his determined (but hopefully friendly and not threatening) gaze.  

 _Fuck_ , he thinks as he gets lost in those bright eyes.  He falls into her spell effortlessly and misses the backpack sitting beside a table.  One second she was within his sight, the next, he sees nothing but the tiled floor of the coffee shop.  His vision blurs for a moment as his ears ring with the pain throbbing in his head.  

“Fuck,” he groans, clenching his eyes shut.  He catches a sudden whiff of lavender.    

“Oh my god, are you ok?” he hears besides him.  It was her.  He’d recognize that sweet, soft voice.  And the pounding in his head intensifies.  Of course she’d witness what mess he was.  

He was readying to assure her he was alright when he feels her warm touch on his head.  “Can someone get me some ice, please?” she calls out before her voice drops closer, softer again.  “Are you alright?”  

“Y-yes.  I think I’ll be alright.”

He finally opens his eyes, his racing heart stopping for a moment at the sight of her looking over him.  Her hair forms a curtain around them and he realizes the scent he had gotten a whiff of, was her.  

Someone apparently hands her a cloth full of ice because she’s suddenly placing it on his head.  “Are you sure?” she asks, her face pulled in concern as she takes him in.  “You took quite a fall.”

He gingerly sits up and realizes people were looking at him and his face burns brighter than he thought possible.  She seems to have noticed too because she gently places her hand on his arm and guides him to sit at her table.   She scoots her chair closer to his and scrutinizes him.  

“Um yeah, I’ll survive.  My pride may not, but I think that died a long time ago anyway,” he mumbles, avoiding her face.  

She lets out a soft huffing giggle.  “Pride’s overrated anyway.”

He looks up at her tentatively and is once again arrested by her smile.   _Fuck, I’m screwed._

“That’s nice of you to say.”

“What’s your name?” she asks.  

“B-barry.  Barry Allen.”

“Well, Barry Allen, I’m Iris West.  Looks like I was your hero today.”

She places the ice back on his head with a smile and looks at him.  And as he looks back at her, he thinks _yes, yes, she was._


End file.
